


Mistaken for Strangers

by SubwayWolf



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Angst and Porn, Autistic Jumin, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Butt Plugs, Collars, Deepthroating, Demiromantic Jumin, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Interfemoral Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Praise Kink, Reverse Cowboy Style, Secret Relationship, Sexuality, Simultaneous Orgasm, mild breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf
Summary: Sometimes it's hard to tell whether Zen's feelings come from Jumin-hate or self-hate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was thinking it'd take me a while until i did this pairing but i guess not haha, i just havent been able to get it out of my head. i have a feeling this is gonna get LONG so im dividing it into chapters!
> 
> i really ship.. everyone with everyone, feel free to request some gay stuff at my tumblr subwaywolf or twitter @subwaywolfy. (obviously i'm not gonna do jaehee/any man because she's a lesbian, thanks! but i will do jaehee/f!mc stuff!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey! fyi, that summary/desc is gonna be relevant at like.. the end, lmao. so uh - this whole beginning is gonna be porn. angst comes later.

Jumin checks his watch. Zen has been in the bathroom for a while now, door closed, not making any sound. Does it really take him this long to get undressed? How many layers is he wearing, exactly?

He sits on the bed and sighs. It creaks below him; the mattress is very old, he supposes, and Zen likes luxuries but not everyone can afford a new mattress every two years. He tries not to look around Zen’s room. He’s afraid he might find something else that displeases him or makes him want to leave. Last time he saw one of the picture frames was crooked and it bothered him the rest of the evening. 

So Jumin waits patiently and looks straight ahead, at the closed door, and at himself – the door is backed with a full-size mirror, one of the several mirrors in this room and in Zen’s whole apartment. Zen likes mirrors. This isn’t surprising.

Because Zen suffers an allergy attack after stepping one foot into Jumin’s home, they have to do this at Zen’s apartment. Jumin isn’t a fan of this, because it’s cold in the below-ground flat, smells like workout clothes, and he doesn’t trust any place that isn’t cleaned by professionals. He also hates that, with the little free time he has, he has to travel across town to see Zen instead of spending time with Elizabeth the Third. Seeing Zen in itself is by all means very pleasurable and a good way to spend free time; Jumin just wishes he didn’t have to be driven across town to do it.

Just as it crosses Jumin’s mind that he too should be undressing in this down time, the door opens and Zen emerges.

As much as Jumin hates the incessant bragging and selfie-spam in the messenger… Zen really is a visual spectacle, especially in person. He puts a great deal of effort into his appearance: exercise, skin care, and the like. And it’s not like that is a secret. Jumin thinks there is no use if Zen denies he is beautiful, but the way he could keep humble is by not boasting about it. He doubtfully wonders if Zen had ever read the story of the fountain of youth, or the one about Narcissus and Echo.

It’s an aesthetic pleasure to be around Zen. He looks good and smells clean. Jumin wonders if he took a quick shower or if that’s how he naturally smells. He’s also mostly naked, save for a pair of well-fitting white briefs. Jumin can see spots of bruises on his sides, up his slim hips – from Jumin, no doubt, being a little too rough the last time they were together, grabbing Zen’s waist to keep him grounded; he likes to squirm. But the bruises are beautiful, in a way.

Zen is looking at Jumin as he shuts the door behind him. He’s quiet for now, but he looks upset.

“Is there already a problem?” Jumin asks him. He doesn’t mean to sound condescending, but that’s how Zen interprets it.

“I don’t know,” Zen half-shrugs, annoyed. “Would it kill you to compliment me?”

Jumin stares him down. “If you want a compliment, you have to earn it.”

Zen looks at the floor and flushes a shade of pink. He liked that. He never admits when he likes the words out of Jumin’s mouth, but Jumin can usually tell. Zen has an inclination towards being submissive, and Jumin is naturally dominant, so this works. Neither of them have done anything like this before, though, so they learn as they go what works and what doesn’t. 

It’s like a little game, a careful balance of back-and-forth. They receive pleasure and great, lusty love, but at the same time they get the feeling they hate most: being at each other’s mercy. But that’s part of the fun, too.

Jumin decides to change the subject. His eyes travel down Zen’s body, every flawless inch of it. “Did you last the whole day without trouble?”

“Yes. It’s starting to feel better, so I’m doing better.”

Jumin does a twirling motion with his finger. “Let me see.”

Zen approaches Jumin and then turns around. Jumin is still sitting down on the foot of the bed, so Zen’s ass is practically eye-level to him now. Zen pulls down his briefs and reveals his bare ass for inspection.

The plug is silver and ornate and looks like the top of a wine bottle opener. Jumin makes sure not to keep them in the same drawer to avoid confusion. The flared base is clean and silver, almost showing Jumin’s reflection back at him as he spreads Zen’s cheeks with his hand to assure it is firmly in place. Zen has kept it in for a while, as his hole is tight, an off-colored red instead of pink, and a little puffy and swollen around it.

Jumin is pleased. “Very good. Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Leave it in a little longer, then.” Jumin releases him. 

Zen turns around and pulls his briefs back up around his waist so he’s no longer exposed. He looks down at Jumin, a little confused. He was expecting to get fucked right away. “What do you want me to do?”

“I appreciate you being so dutiful.”

“Just tell me.”

Jumin keeps eye contact as he undoes his belt. Zen’s eyes travel down to his waist, watching his hands do the work, then slide the belt out of its loops. Jumin keeps the belt in his hand for a few seconds, amused at the flash of fear in Zen’s eyes as he wonders what his partner might do with it. 

Zen sighs with relief when Jumin puts the belt to the side and spreads his legs. From here, he knows what to do. Zen is on his knees in a second, taking over the duty of undoing Jumin’s pants. 

But Jumin places a hand over Zen’s and stops him. “Not yet.”

Zen looks up with curiosity. Jumin reaches behind him and pulls out what he managed to hide – the collar.

As much as he pretends he doesn’t like it, Zen can’t help but to let his eyes flash with delight at the mere sight of the black leather dog collar. It’s an old-fashioned one, not with plastic clips but metal ones, and thick, genuine leather that chafes like mad, and cool metal brads on the outside and in which chill any skin it comes into contact with.

Zen doesn’t bother protesting this time. He’s learned at this point that Jumin knows he’s lying when he refuses it. He tilts his head up for better exposure, baring his neck to Jumin and putting his arms on Jumin’s legs for support. 

Jumin has to make sure there is no stray hairs in the way, and he collects any silver locks that escaped Zen’s ponytail with one hand to move them out of the way. With the other hand he fastens on the collar and buckles it, pulling it tight around Zen’s neck.

Zen gasps a little, then puts his hand up to Jumin’s. “Not too tight. It’ll leave bruises.”

They have two rules – no hair-touching, and no bruises or bite marks where people can see them. Jumin loosens the collar. 

Zen reaches up and slides his fingers beneath it to see how tight it is, the pads of his fingertips touching metal studs, buckles, and genuine fine black leather. He flushes a shade of red and his eyes turn down. “Okay. That’s better.”

If he’s to be candid, Jumin thinks that Zen really does look very good on his knees there, between Jumin’s spread legs. He judges the spatial aspects of what he sees and becomes keenly aware of how close Zen’s pretty lips are to his crotch. Jumin can feel himself get warmer. He can feel the desire building.

But he ignores his own feelings. He wants to know Zen’s. Zen has a good imagination and a good grasp on what he does and doesn’t want. Oh, and it makes him embarrassed to tell the truth of exactly what he wants Jumin to do to him. So he asks, “What do you want?”

Zen looks up at him, eyebrow raised a little. “What do _I_ want?” He pauses, not because he has to think of an answer, but because he needs the courage to say it. He flushes a little. He can’t look Jumin in the eyes anymore, and he speaks whisper-soft. “I… I want to taste you.”

“What was that?”

He clarifies. “I want your cock. In my mouth.”

“I’m sorry?”

Zen is blushing an obvious pink now. His hands go down and cover his crotch, the erection that is slowly building there. He’s ashamed that the excitement came without even a touch, just the sound of Jumin’s voice … 

Zen likes it so much. He thrives off of it and craves it. His voice is weak. “ _Please_ , Mr. Han.”

Jumin tucks a lock of Zen’s hair behind his ear, to see his face better, to see the shame plastered there, the desire in his downturned eyes. “Much better,” he praises. 

He doesn’t have to give a command for Zen to know what he has to do next. Jumin leans back and allows Zen to undo his dress slacks for him, bemused at the way his hands are shaking in anticipation. He manages to hold back a grin, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're reading this, i love you!!!!! thanks for the support! remember i'm taking requests so just shoot me an ask or tweet if you want!

Zen looks up at Jumin with half-lidded red eyes and parts his pink lips, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he prepares to take Jumin’s cock in his mouth. The collar is black as night against his white skin and he looks _beautiful_ there, on his knees.

Jumin wishes he brought some wine. Thinking of it, he can almost smell the musty red aroma of a too-full glass, the dark acidity cutting through his tongue, the velvety taste in the back of his throat.

Wine would take this anxious, carnivorous edge off. Jumin feels powerless when overcome by desire, so he naturally doesn’t like the sensation. Thankfully he’s strong enough to maintain control for now.

While his mind wandered, Jumin finds himself caught off guard by Zen, who places the head of Jumin’s stiffening dick in his mouth. Jumin is prepared enough to hold back a gasp, but Zen is not merciful. He has a very talented tongue, and it runs in a circle around the sensitive flesh of his head, it licks across the slit of its top. His soft lips encircle it as well, creating a wall of warmth.

It’s almost too much, but what pushes Jumin off the edge is the man’s ability to make eye contact all the while. And Jumin can’t help but stare back, at the way his own cock disappears with Zen lowering his head to take more of the staff in his mouth.

Jumin has to clench his teeth, hard. He cannot understand why his body is compelling him to say Zen’s name. He wants to. It’s in the back of his throat and he’s afraid if he exhales, it will come out with his breath.

It feels good. Zen starts to use his tongue as a flat base as he forces his head down and back up again on Jumin’s now throbbing-hard cock. Zen is making these slutty little humming noises, and the sound of his spit is slick. The air starts to turn humid and Jumin can feel his dress shirt sticking to him.

Oh, he has to speak. He has to breathe. Jumin grabs at his black-and-white-striped tie and starts tugging it loose.

“Good work.” It’s all he says; he’s afraid more will slip, something that might let Zen know that Jumin is absolutely fucking weak for this. 

Zen uses one hand to position Jumin’s cock in the right way, and another he hooks around Jumin’s leg for balance, support, and control. He’s excellent at sucking cock… Jumin wonders if he’s used his talent as a tool. In his business, it’s likely. And his mind shifts, he remembers Zen mentioning, drunkenly, tagging along with Jumin to work and kneeling under the desk, and… 

Just then, Zen flashes teeth; very, very gently, brushing the surface of the skin of the shaft. It’s just enough to startle Jumin to completely consciousness. He clenches up his stomach and his fists, and he wants to grab Zen by the hair and admonish him for the tease.

But Zen apologizes buy running over the area with wet lips and the soft flat of his tongue, and looking up at Jumin with apologetic eyes as if what he just did was not a hundred percent calculated.

For a second, Jumin loses himself in the blowjob as his head grazes the back of the roof of Zen’s mouth. He can feel Zen’s hot drool dripping down the base of the shaft into his pubes, which are jet black and curl up at the base of his cock. 

“Don’t even think about doing that again,” Jumin warns him once he regains focus. His head is spinning. With each movement of Zen’s head and tongue, pleasure surges through him. It’s intoxicating.

Clearly amused, Zen lets his eyes flutter closed and continues giving head. His other hand has been moved from Jumin’s leg and is now likely pawing at his own hard cock, which Jumin imagines is either poking up out of the front band of his underwear or tenting it comedically.

Zen likes compliments, and he loves to hear them, but he doesn’t fish for them; not as if he can right now with his mouth all full of cock. But he looks right into Jumin’s eyes, and he can _see_ the lust and pleasure there, so he doesn’t need compliments for praise. Jumin knows this and hates it because he feels exposed and vulnerable, as if Zen can see through him like glass.

Jumin moans a little as pre-come leaks out his cock. Zen knows it’s coming because of the sound and takes it out of his mouth, sticking his tongue out so he can lick it up as it beads out of the slit in a clear soupy mess. He cleans up all of it, humming contentedly and sweetly.

Though Jumin could definitely come from this, right into Zen’s mouth or over his pretty lips – and, oh, the thought of Zen licking his lips clean, it’s almost too much to even imagine – but Jumin knows the joys of delayed gratification.

It takes a deal of strength, but Jumin manages to say, “Stop.” It comes out breathy and weak and he hates the sound of his own voice when it’s like that, so he says it more forcefully; “ _Stop it_.”

Zen looks up at him with those red eyes and Jumin can feel a chill run through him. Zen doesn’t stop. He lowers his head deeper, his face deep between Jumin’s thighs and his lips and the tip of his nose buried into Jumin’s black pubes. Jumin can feel himself so deep in Zen’s mouth, his cock slid down the back of his throat; he can feel the ridges there, the unbelievable tightness and heat. 

Zen gags a little, his throat spasming – this is the price he’s paying for rebelling. He chokes on it a bit longer before pulling his mouth off completely and coughing, gasping for air. He holds Jumin’s cock at its base as he does this, regaining his breath and blinking tears out of his eyes.

“I said to stop,” Jumin warns him in an I-told-you-so voice. 

Zen looks at him defiantly, his eyes a little red from the tears, and parts his lips to start giving head again.

Jumin admonishes him by getting a grip on the collar. He gets two fingers underneath the black leather band and tugs it, jerking Zen’s head up so they meet eyes, cutting off his air flow and startling him so that Zen reflexively shoots a hand up and grabs at his wrist, _hard_ like he might crush the delicate bones there.

Zen’s eyes shift quickly from fear to hatred to submission as he realizes Jumin has the upper hand here. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” he chokes out, barely able to speak. “Cut it out, man.” 

Jumin releases him. He didn’t mean to hurt Zen and hopes he didn’t. He doesn’t apologize.

Annoyed, Zen shifts his eyes down and gently brushes his thumb along the skin on the underside of the collar, tenderly touching it and probably praying it doesn’t bruise. He looks a little peeved but still uncomfortable; his cock is still hard, and he’s pawing at it through his tented briefs.

“I just wanted to taste you,” Zen complains, sounding sweet and innocent, or maybe his voice is just damaged. “What’s your problem?”

Jumin holds his cock in his hand to relieve some of the pressure. He’s growing impatient; his dick throbbing, cold from the drying spit, and his balls are tightening up. “I thought we should move on to the next part of the process.”

Zen smirks a little. “You want to fuck me, Mr. Han?”

That smirk changes the glint in his eyes. He’s playful now, sexy, and irresistible. It works on Jumin, who can feel himself getting warmer. He doesn’t want to play the teasing game, though – he wants to get started and take care of the sexual tension his body is aching from. 

Objectively, the best way for this to happen fast is to get Zen to shut up by beating him at his own game.

Jumin kisses him. It catches Zen off guard but he recovers quickly, responding with a deep, contented exhale and a tilt of his head. He leans forward, raising up on his knees so it’s easier for them to meet. Zen’s lips part, welcoming Jumin’s tongue. They kiss deeply, and it’s wet and warm and tastes sweet. And Zen is nice and quiet, and Jumin feels his heart beating hard, muffled in his chest.

Jumin wrecks him a little more, kissing into his mouth as if to suck the life out of him, then pulls away, leaving Zen panting.

“Yes,” Jumin finally responds. His voice is husky and quiet; the two of them are only a breath apart. “I want to fuck you. Get on the bed.”

Zen is slow, a little dazed, and he doesn’t process the words fast enough. He stares at Jumin with his lips parted, red from overworking, and doesn’t budge.

Impatient, Jumin grabs Zen by the jaw and tilts his head up so they make stern eye contact. “I said, get on the bed, Zen.” His voice darkens dangerously. “I’m going to make you my property.”

Zen doesn’t need to be told twice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for waiting, my schedule is busy T.T ... in other news im back on zens route again lol (bc i was a noob my first playthrough and didnt get enough party guests for his good ending) wow hes an angel! i cant wait to sexually exploit him in this fic...

It is difficult for Jumin to feel as easily as other people do. As a child, he thought something was wrong with him, the way he couldn’t empathize with ease, the way people described emotions that he could never recall experiencing. It was frustrating, like there was an entire world of emotion and sensation that his brain was not allowing him to experience. 

Since then, he’s found ways to compensate, ways to stimulate what other people can feel so naturally. More aptly, he’s found shortcuts, methods of getting to the same emotional conclusion others experience, just by means of a different process.

One example is attraction. Attraction is, abstractly, a difficult drive for Jumin to feel naturally. He has never quite understood someone’s desire to be with another person just by looking at that person’s appearance and physique. For Jumin, the process is more elaborate. He doesn’t feel sexual attraction until he knows the person deeply and for a long period of time, and he can’t appreciate beauty until he views it analytically.

Upon analysis, Zen is beautiful. 

His body and bone structure are both arranged beautifully – not by opinion, but by symmetry and geometry, the kind of mathematics adored and replicated by ancient classicist painters and sculptors of Greece and Rome. Admiring Zen is like viewing one of their statues or paintings; even the colors are a masterpiece. His hair is a ghost-white with a silver shine, his skin so pale you could see tributaries of blue veins at his wrists. His blood-red eyes contrast alarmingly well with his pale features, like expensive red wine spilled on red carpet. The black collar gives his divine appearance the status of being owned; a slave god, in the possession of Jumin and no one else. 

Jumin almost feels lucky. He wonders how much his eyes are dilated at the moment, and if Zen notices.

Zen is preoccupied; he’s busy complaining. He is sprawled out on the bed, his legs hanging off the edge, his hands up by his head as he fixes his hair. His cock is hard and his cheeks are flushed and he’s beyond impatient. “Would it kill you to pick up the pace?”

Jumin doesn’t bother responding to that. He gestures for Zen to spread his legs, and Zen obeys. His cock is still hard, upright and veiny, and Jumin wants to help him reach relief but patience is key.

The base of the silver plug is sticking out the base of Zen’s ass. He appears eager to have it removed; despite bragging that it doesn’t hurt and that he can take it, Zen clearly doesn’t like it and wants it out. It’s not silicone, so it doesn’t shape to the tightness of Zen’s body; it’s hard, cold metal, unyielding and undeniably uncomfortable. It also isn’t small; not like the training plugs Jumin had used on Zen to get him used to this one. No, this plug is designed to be _noticed_ , to be felt all day, reminded that it’s there, to remind the wearer who owns him. 

Zen pretends it’s nothing, and that he can ignore it, but he can’t. No one can be that strong; Zen is weak, he has a weak willpower and is easily succumbed to desire and power. He hates it about himself, but Jumin knows it is true, and he can exploit it in the way Zen likes best.

Jumin puts his thumb on the base of the plug and hooks two fingers around the flared ends. “Exhale.” 

Zen lets out a slow breath. His body relaxes just enough for Jumin to pull on the plug and pop it out. Now that Zen is empty, Jumin can see how red the rim of Zen’s hole is. It stays open, stretched from the plug, and doesn’t close despite Zen’s attempt to tighten up.

“Very good,” Jumin praises him. He lets his hand run along the inside of Zen’s thigh. “It looks a little red, but not as bad as it used to get. How do you feel?”

“Impatient,” Zen grumbles. At least he’s honest.

Jumin unwraps a condom. It’s a ribbed one, already coated with a smooth lubricant that doesn’t have a conspicuous smell. He unrolls it, pinching the top as he slides it over himself.

Zen audibly sighs. “Do you have to?”

“We should.” Jumin is firm with his assertion, but he knows Zen will protest.

Zen does protest. “I want to feel it in me,” he whines. He likes it bareback and pushes for it almost every time.

Jumin likes messes that are easy to clean up, and he likes being safe. They do this enough to think about fluid-bonding, but just the thought of it is a little gross. It’s easy to get common illnesses like the cold by being so physical like this, and Jumin doesn’t like missing work. 

It’s not the time to explain this, though. He doesn’t really know how to answer Zen, so he says, “Too bad.”

“Too bad?” Zen echoes him, sneering. “You’re such a child.”

Jumin wonders if saying _it’s because I care about you_ would be appropriate. He decides it isn’t and says nothing at all.

Nearby is a bottle of water-based lubricant. Jumin is not educated on this subject so he had bought the most expensive one he could find. Just a small bottle has lasted him years; the lube is so well-made that he doesn’t need much to do the job. He uncaps it and pours some onto his fingers.

Unsurprisingly, Zen protests. “Don’t prep me.”

Jumin looks down at him. He furrows his brow. “Do you want it to hurt?”

Zen doesn’t answer. He rubs at his eyes and looks away. There’s a strained look on his face; he’s uncomfortable. He wants this to be over and the discomfort to stop.

Jumin lifts Zen’s leg so he can access his hole. He is gaping open a little, empty from the plug that was removed. “You’re already open quite a bit,” he observes. “Tell me how this feels.”

Jumin teases the lubed fingers around the rim of Zen’s hole and pokes inside. Zen takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, his head falling back on the bed. His muscles tense a little in anticipation, but he is loose when Jumin pushes his fingers in and spreads them around a bit, teasing open the warm walls of Zen’s insides. 

Zen exhales contentedly. “Feels good.” He spreads his legs a little more and shifts his hips, taking the fingers deeper. He really loves this; Jumin can see it on his face. The metal plug must have been very uncomfortable, and a pair of long, slim fingers rubbing and soothing his sore insides must feel very good to Zen.

Jumin enjoys watching Zen squirm. He loves to cripple the man in this way, reduce him to fragility just by simple motions of his fingers. He scissors and spreads, and Zen receives him so well, opening and heating up. 

For a person who not long ago wanted it dry, Zen is enjoying himself a little too much. “A little more.” His voice comes out weakly. He bites his lip and tightens up. He pushes his hair out of his eyes with one hand, and with the other reaches down to his own cock, just to hold it and relieve some pressure.

Jumin doesn’t like seeing that. “Zen. Don’t be selfish.” He doesn’t want this to end so soon. Not without receiving some pleasure as well. Jumin pulls his fingers out and inspects them; they are wet and warm and feel cold outside of Zen’s body.

Zen opens his eyes halfway, his long lashes fluttering a little. “Then get it over with. We don’t have all day. What are you waiting for?” 

Jumin is still mostly dressed. He tries unbuttoning his dress shirt, unhurriedly, with his clean hand. With the other, he coats his dick in the rest of the lubricant.

Zen stops him, grabbing him by the wrist. “Give me what I want.”

Jumin pulls away. He doesn’t appreciate being touched like that without warning. “Need I remind you that this is a mutually beneficial partnership?”

“Don’t talk like that. This isn’t a business meeting,” Zen hisses. “Just shut up and kiss me.” He grabs Jumin by the collar and pulls him down so they are face-to-face. 

It’s easy to forget how physically strong Zen is. Perhaps because a lot of his behavior is traditionally feminine, so people underestimate him. But he is very physically fit and strong, from working out so frequently. He likes to move and wrestle in bed, and he can very easily dominate nearly any opponent, Jumin included.

Jumin has to put his hands on the bed to keep him from falling on top of Zen, but Zen keeps him up and doesn’t let him move. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jumin strongly dislikes being commanded and ordered around, but Zen is right. They should begin. Besides, that is the best way to get Zen to shut up.

Almost as an apology, Zen kisses him. He does it deeply, humming against Jumin’s lips, and Jumin receives him and kisses back. The kiss is not balanced; Zen is excited and overpowering Jumin, who is cautious.

Jumin pulls back so the kiss ends. “Let me go.”

Finally, Zen looks him in the eyes. There is desperation in his gaze, a gleam of sadness. “Jumin, please,” he whispers. “Please fuck me?”

“That’s more like it. Use your words instead of behaving like an animal.”

Zen has to bite his tongue to keep from talking back, but he manages to keep quiet.

Jumin doesn’t stop there. “Is that what you want, Zen? To be treated like an animal?” He takes advantage of his position over Zen’s body and lowers his head to Zen’s ear and whispers to him. “To be fucked like an animal?”

Jumin leans down further. He plants a kiss on Zen’s jawline, and progresses down. He kisses him on the exposed skin of his neck where the collar does not cover.

Zen melts beneath him, all of his muscles loosening, his resolve running malleable. He is hyper-focused on the sensory input, all his nerves on fire and focused on Jumin. His heart rate is fast; Jumin can feel it through his skin, a pulsing artery beneath the leather of the collar.

Jumin travels further down, and he takes his time. He plants sweet, wet kisses on Zen’s chest, teasing and licking his nipples, then trails down his stomach, to the neatly-trimmed line of kitten-soft hair beginning below his navel and leading to the tamed pubes between his legs.

Zen brings his hands to Jumin’s head and almost grabs fistfuls of his hair but manages to stop himself – that is one of their rules, after all. Jumin can feel his hands shaking as Zen’s fingers lace through his jet black hair. Jumin is low enough to put his hands on Zen’s spread thighs, but not enough to blow him.

He stops. This is the way to do it; the way to ruin him – to bring Zen to the edge, and then stop.

Jumin gets to his feet again. Zen looks up at him, half-annoyed and half-dejected. Zen seems to know that he is about to receive an order.

“Turn over.”

Zen’s expression softens into confusion, then annoyance. “No. I want to kiss you.”

“Turn over, Zen. Don’t make me ask a third time.”

Blushing, Zen turns over so he’s lying on his stomach. He keeps his hands up by his head and grabs the bed sheets in preparation. He takes a staggered breath, forcing himself to relax. 

Jumin holds him by the thighs and pushes them together so his legs are closed. “You said you wanted me to give you what you want.” His fingers dig into Zen’s pale flesh, hard enough to leave red marks. “Tell me what you want.”

Before Zen can answer, Jumin slides his lubed-up cock between Zen’s closed legs. As he pushes through, he feels his shaft rub the underside of Zen’s swollen taint and then brush underneath his balls, moving them out of place.

As Zen gasps, Jumin speaks in a low tone. “Is this what you want?”

Zen shakes his head. “No! Come on, man, don’t be like that!” He hates it. It’s doing nothing for him; it’s selfish in a too-close kind of way. Zen can feel Jumin’s cock so close but isn’t taking it inside of him. It’s nearing him to orgasm but not in the way he wants.

Jumin continues fucking him there, between his legs. He is getting very slick from the lube, and the rhythm becomes effortless. Slick sounds of sex fill the room, but the scent is clean, and the power dynamic is heavily weighted in Jumin’s favor, as it should be.

Zen moans a little. As much as he hates this, he loves it, too. The yearning, the desire; it builds up for him quickly, filling him to the brim with lust. He whines into the mattress, a cry for mercy.

From Jumin’s perspective, he could see Zen all writhing and upset beneath him, and he could also see Zen’s cute ass angled up for him, his pink little hole just waiting to be filled. Torturing Zen was fun of course, but there would come a time where even Jumin would cave.

“God… damn it, Jumin…” Zen’s protest was muffled by the bed sheets and dissented through clenched teeth.

Tormenting Zen was fun but it had to come to an end. Jumin released his grip on Zen’s thighs, which were now trembling, and helped him spread his legs. Jumin placed his cock on the crack of Zen’s ass, rubbing his shaft on Zen’s gaping, empty hole. “Is _this_ what you want?”

“Yes,” Zen sobbed. He rocked his hips back, desperate to be filled up. “I want it. Put it in, _god_ , please!”

This is it. This is the peak of the evening, when they both finally receive satisfaction. It all builds up to this. Jumin knows very well that delayed gratification is the sweetest of successes.

Jumin climbs onto the bed and Zen moves forward to give him room. With shaking hands, Jumin grabs Zen’s slim hips and positions himself outside his hole.

“Wait. Stop.” Zen reaches back and pushes Jumin’s hands off his hips.

Jumin snaps back into reality and feels grounded again. He isn’t disappointed, just frazzled at the sudden interruption.

Zen gets up on all fours and then turns around so he is sitting up, facing Jumin. He strokes his cock as he looks at his partner with hopeful eyes, but doesn’t speak.

Jumin relaxes. He puts a hand up and strokes Zen’s cheek. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Zen lifts a hand to Jumin’s partially-exposed chest. With some fingers he traces the shape of his clavicle, but fixes his eyes on Jumin’s lips. “I want to ride you. I want to be on top... Please let me.”

A pleasant surprise. Jumin _almost_ smiles. This is a request he cannot deny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want to see what the plug looks like, check it [here](http://livenudebigfoot.tumblr.com/post/151308844268/livenudebigfoot-rich-people-sex-toys-sure-are) lol, i kinda modeled it after the first one, but jumin probably owns all of them. scratch that, he definitely does.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi it's your friendly neighborhood zack who is finally getting to the smut after like a month of buildup lol
> 
> (sorry this took so long. i work at toys r us and black friday week was a literal nightmare lmfao)
> 
> just a warning, this is gonna get angsty because... well... zen is my favorite because i sense a lot of internalized homophobia from his actions/behavior. tmi, but back in high school when i was closeted, i went through a lot of the same things and acted/felt like zen does so im kind of using this fic to channel our similarities and try and explain how it feels??? idk. i'll explain more about this if u need an in-depth zen analysis lol. i'm totally ready for that. i have a lot to say about this guy. :3 anyway, hope you guys enjoy~!

Their eyes meet, red on black. 

Jumin is lying on his back, upper half supported by old, flat pillows. He does not like to be in this position, but Zen asked nicely, and indulging him maintains balance in the benefit-exchange of their relationship.

Zen keeps his eyes locked onto Jumin’s as he lowers himself onto Jumin’s hard cock with perfect balance. He isn’t shy about it. He takes the first half at first, the thick head and a few inches of the shaft, with no hesitation, his face stoic and prepared.

Zen has been opened well. Jumin’s cock slides into him with ease. Zen is not tense at all, he is relaxed and receives it in its entirety, filling him up from tip to base, and Zen is quiet about it, his pleasure only apparent on his face for now.

It feels good. Jumin is the first one to break the eye contact. This sensation sends him into a daze. He closes his eyes and focuses.

Zen bites his lip to hold back, but words slip out. “Ah, god,” he pants. He rolls backward and Jumin’s dick stuffs him up, thick and throbbing inside of him. “Oh, it’s so big. I can’t take it, baby... It’s too big for me…”

 _Liar._ To an extent, Jumin does enjoy dirty talk during sex, but Zen goes a little overboard sometimes, which is expected, given his inclination towards theatrics.

Despite his words, Zen starts to shift his hips and ass, sliding Jumin’s cock out a few inches, only to slide back down again. He rolls his hips with master precision. There is beauty in the way his body moves, the way his muscles contract and his hips shift, almost like a dance.

Noises continue to escape from him, this time not in the form of words. Zen’s lips part and his eyes close. He has one hand on Jumin’s shoulder to keep himself balanced. With another he reaches around himself to help aid the positioning and spread his hole wider to take it. 

Jumin opens his eyes to catch a glimpse of him like this. The expression of focus and pleasure combine with the flush of his cheeks and make him more beautiful than ever. And as annoying as the sounds are, they are very sexy, and they let Jumin know that Zen feels good.

Jumin places his hands on Zen’s waist, gently at first. By touching his hot skin, Jumin becomes aware of how cold his own hands are, but Zen doesn’t seem to mind.

But Jumin asks anyway. He wants to hear Zen’s voice. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Zen answers instantly. He tightens up, milking Jumin’s dick with his hips and insides alone. “Feels so good… Fuck…”

Jumin takes a bit of control by shifting his hips upwards, fucking Zen a little deeper. Zen responds with a low moan. He’s visibly melting, totally losing himself in the feeling. His cock is stiff between his legs, going untouched. It looks red and sensitive, but he’s being patient and drawing this out. Smart boy.

Even with the condom on, the experience is nothing less than sensory overload. With their overheated bodies so close, hot sweat starts to wet their skin together, creating a distinct smell in the room. 

But nothing is worse than the noise; repeated patterns of sound, from wet fucking to Zen’s constant mewling and moaning. Jumin’s brain doesn’t like it; he doesn’t know what to focus on. He closes his eyes tighter.

Zen leans forward a bit, still managing to ride Jumin’s dick expertly well. He presses a kiss to Jumin’s lips, startling him. Jumin realizes what’s happening and kisses him back a little awkwardly. It doesn’t take long for tongue to pass, though, and once it does, the lack of oxygen makes them both dizzy.

Zen pulls back and whispers, “Tell me how I feel. Tell me you like me.”

Jumin opens his eyes a little. Eyes closed, Zen is still very focused on fucking, and he’s doing a good job of it. He does like being praised. There is no harm in indulging him.

“You feel like heaven,” Jumin admits. “And you look like a god.” _No, no, too sappy – make it sexier_. “You feel… tight.” Jumin reaches around Zen’s backside and fingers down the base of his spine, further, down his ass. He feels where the base of his own cock meets Zen’s body. “As tight as a virgin, Zen, no matter how hard I fuck you.”

It’s true. Zen is so tight, even after being opened with the plug and Jumin’s fingers. He heals so fast. No matter how much Jumin abuses his hole, Zen returns to virgin-tightness in no time.

Zen’s body temperature spikes. He is flushed pink practically all over, another gorgeous contrast to the black of the collar. His voice is gentle and weak. He keeps it quiet. “I’m so full. Your cock feels so big in me, Mr. Han.”

The words tickle Jumin’s ear. He feels a shudder go through him, then his balls seize up. Pre-come beads from his dick, into the condom, increasing the heat.

Like a needy little kitten, Zen asks, “Am I doing good?”

Another shiver runs through Jumin as Zen starts to plant wet kisses down the side of his neck. “You’re doing so well. You’re amazing.”

“Mm.” Zen lifts his head and kisses Jumin on the mouth once more, quickly. “Harder?”

Zen proceeds in rocking against Jumin with even more strength and force, taking Jumin’s dick deeper, slamming against him, balls smacking against his underside too. 

The sensation makes Jumin’s eye practically roll back. Pure pleasure and bliss surges through him. “Good boy…”

It turns rough, quick. Jumin’s fingers dig into the muscles of Zen’s thighs, grabbing him tightly, leaving red marks and fingernail scrapes. A gross, wet, smacking sound repeats every time their hips clash, Zen slamming down onto Jumin’s cock and taking all of it. Jumin shifts his hips, too, pushing hard into Zen’s body. He can feel how deep he really is as Zen’s muscles tighten and clench around him. 

The longer this goes on, the less power Jumin has. His body is slowly beginning to cave into the pleasure, and he will lose control soon. He is very handsy with Zen; grabbing and pulling at whatever he can, holding him close, sharing sweat and breath. His stomach turns; this is going to be messy.

“Jumin!” Zen cries out, still breathy and faint. “I’m gonna come. Touch me.”

“Touch you…?”

“ _Please_!” 

Zen likes to play neglect-then-satisfy; his throbbing dick has gone untouched this long. Jumin paws for it and finds it, then starts to stroke him. There are trails of pre-come down his shaft which act as brief lubricant.

Zen is very tense again; he’s holding back. He seems to be waiting for Jumin. “I’m almost there,” Jumin decides to announce. “Just a little more…”

“Wait for me.” Zen holds Jumin tight. “Let’s come together.”

The wait is not long. The mere thought of that gets Jumin right to the edge, too late to slam on the breaks. As he comes, his brain shows him a million bright colors, and pleasure like none other overwhelms him. Zen’s muscles close around his dick as he comes as well, at the same time, all over his lap, while moaning beautifully and musically. 

And that’s it. An explosion of pleasure and intimacy, and then it’s over. Somehow this surprises Jumin every time.

Zen lazily rolls off of Jumin and lays down on his back on the bed. He catches his breath, staring up at the ceiling in a daze. Jumin feels gross. He sits up and rolls the used condom off his now-soft dick. It’s full and warm, and he tosses it into the waste bin quickly.

When he tries to lie back down, Jumin sees the mess on Zen’s lap and knows if Zen moves an inch, it will drip all over the sheets. Given that Zen has no maid and that he’s slow to clean up his space, it’s very likely that if the sheets do get dirty, they may not be washed for a long while. 

It’s Jumin’s job to clean up, then. He gets off the bed and walks towards the bathroom, and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’s naked, warm, and glistening. His hair is an awful mess. He is suddenly very aware of how he must smell, of the salty taste in his mouth, and the sound of his heart quick in his ears.

Jumin looks away. He has to keep his head turned as he walks to the bathroom door and opens it, trying not to glimpse any other mirrors he encounters. How can Zen live like this, in a home of forced, constant introspection? How could he live like that, and yet have no self-awareness at all?

He keeps his eyes down as he gets a hand cloth from beside the sink and runs warm water. Because Zen’s cheap housing has poor plumbing, it takes a few moments for the water to get warm.

Predictably, Zen complains from the other room. “What are you doing? Come back here. Lay down with me.” His voice is weak, clearly overworked from being so vocal.

“Stay still,” Jumin instructs him. He wets a corner of the towel beneath the faucet. “You have to be cleaned.”

“I don’t want to be cleaned.”

Jumin worries momentarily that Zen might have read an article on the internet about semen being good for the skin. “Don’t act childish.”

“Just leave it. Come back here, lay down with me for a few seconds.” Zen is protesting just for the sake of argument; he needs and likes to be cleaned. “I don’t want you wasting my warm water, anyway.”

“I’ll pay for your water bill.”

“I don’t want your money.” 

It’s difficult for Jumin to hold back a sigh. He closes the faucet, wrings out the wet corner of the towel so water does not drip onto the floor, and then walks back into the bedroom.

The rustling of sheets means Zen is burying himself in blankets in an attempt to hide, like a child might. Only his eyes are visible over the edge of the sheets. He keeps them half-closed and doesn’t look at Jumin.

Jumin climbs onto the bed he grabs a fistful of the blankets and tries to pull them off, but Zen holds them down. Jumin sighs again. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.” Zen’s voice is muffled under the sheets, distantly broken.

The fist Jumin holds in the sheets gets tighter. “Stop hiding from me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

Jumin freezes. Those words give him a stinging sensation in his heart which he does not enjoy.

The guilt is back. Zen always gets like this after sex; he gets reclusive and turns in on himself and doesn’t want to be touched. At first Jumin had thought it was because of some sort of physical pain, but that was not the case. It had to be something else.

Jumin keeps his grip on the bedding and tries to look Zen in the eye, with no success. “Please,” he repeats. “Let me take care of you.”

Hesitantly, _very_ slowly, Zen relaxes. Jumin is able to remove the covers and expose Zen’s still-beautiful body. His defined muscles are tensed up, as if in fear of Jumin’s touch, but he doesn’t voice protest anymore.

Jumin tries to be gentle as he uses the wet rag to clean up the splatters of dried come on the insides of Zen’s thighs. He lightly wipes the towel across the base of Zen’s soft cock, across silvery-grey pubes which stick together in hardened licks of dry semen. 

It is easy to clean the front, but Jumin is more hesitant to do the back. Clearly something is peeving Zen and he is uncomfortable. He does always get like this, but that doesn’t mean the behavior is less worrisome. 

So Jumin proceeds with caution as he reaches between the underside of Zen’s legs, covering his fingers with the towel and pressing between the cheeks of Zen’s ass, cleaning and scooping up any excess fluid or lube. This simple action causes Zen to tense up again, and for his eyes to close. He doesn’t make a sound.

“Am I hurting you?” Jumin asks. He has to, though he feels like Zen wouldn’t tell him if that were the case.

Zen shakes his head. It isn’t pain that’s bothering him, it’s something else. 

Jumin wishes, not for the first time, that he was better at understanding people’s emotions without requiring a verbal explanation. For now all he can do is help Zen in this way. Emotional consolation would come later, or, if Jumin was lucky, _never_. 

As much as he wanted Zen to feel safe and comfortable, getting him to that point was definitely not one of his strengths. Zen is usually strong enough to get himself there on his own, without help. But at times like this, Jumin really isn’t sure at all what he is supposed to do, what his position requires. 

It is out of character for the both of them to ask for help, especially from each other. The result breeds impasses like these. 

Jumin gives up. If he gives Zen some space, they will both feel better and return to normal. “You’re clean. You can relax now.” 

Zen doesn’t say anything. He opens his eyes but looks at the wall.

“One more thing.”

Their eyes lock as Jumin reaches up for Zen’s throat. Zen tenses up again, almost in fear, but Jumin only unbuckles the collar and removes it from Zen’s neck. The exposed skin is now red, but it won’t bruise. He takes the collar in his hand and gets up.

Jumin gets off the bed and walks back to the bathroom, to the door he left open on purpose, and leaves the dirty towel on the sink. He thinks about folding it but his mind is too preoccupied. He must clear his thoughts. 

Exhausted, he decides to go back to bed and lay down for a moment. At least there the two of them could find some peace.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's no porny stuff in this chapter so those of you who only stuck around for the smut can stop reading now. this last part is really just.. me laying out what i feel about zen and the internalized homophobia stuff i mentioned in ch.4's author's notes. it's also super interesting to explore this relationship because of how different and similar they are.. writing in jumin's pov was tough because of the empathy disconnect, but i'll try zen out next time and see how it feels!!
> 
> tl;dr, this is something i needed to write bc it was important to me and because i love zen!! i hope you guys like it. thanks for sticking around <3
> 
> ps, yes i had to throw a little m!mc/seven in there just because it's The Good Ship. not sorry lol

On his way back to bed, Jumin’s phone happens to catch his eye. He picks it up and checks to make sure no work emails are flooding his account. His inbox is thankfully well-managed, but there is a message on his phone. Jumin taps on the messenger icon and waits for it to load.

“You were so loud today I didn’t hear my phone go off,” Jumin says. It may sound like a complaint, but that isn’t the case. Jumin likes getting Zen loud.

Zen, of course, takes it as a complaint, but he ignores it anyway. “Who messaged you?”

The app opens, and Jumin goes to the text feature. The latest unread message is highlighted in yellow, and it says:

_(+82) MC: still up for a RFA family dinner tonight? we’ll be waiting outside the restaurant @ 8. btw, if u don’t show up, we’re still gonna send the bill to c &r ;) _

“It’s MC,” Jumin answers, a little flustered. He had honestly lost track of time and nearly forgotten about the scheduled dinner plans. “He’s checking to see if we are still going out to dinner with him and Luciel.”

Zen sits up in the bed. He covers his lower half with tangled sheets. “What, together? We’re going together? Just us?”

Jumin furrows his brow. “I believe Assistant Kang and Yoosung are meeting us there as well.”

Zen nods. His panic settles. “Oh, okay. Good.”

The relief on Zen’s face is more than apparent. Jumin wonders what would cause Zen such panic. This is just dinner, they’ve done this before with the other members. Jumin decides there is no point in wasting time wondering about this, and decides to ask. “What’s your problem?”

Zen has an answer, but he doesn’t speak at first. He looks down at his hands, in his lap. He speaks quietly. “No one can know about this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our relationship. We have to keep it the same, in front of them, and in the messenger.”

Jumin’s heart sinks a little. He doesn’t like that feeling.

Zen clarifies. “I feel like… we should show them what they know, and nothing more. We should continue to show them the bickering, the disagreements, stuff like that.”

“That won’t be hard.”

Zen looks down at the floor for a moment. “Right. It’s not really an act. Nothing’s changed.” 

He’s wrong. Everything has.

They have not officially told the RFA members about their relationship. Though MC is incredibly perceptive and probably knows regardless, he hasn’t, to Jumin’s knowledge, told anyone about this. It makes sense that he might tell his boyfriend Luciel, but MC must have picked up on the magnitude of privacy and not told him, because if he had, there was no doubt in Jumin’s mind that Luciel would go overboard with incessant jokes and teasing about the relationship. It seemed that Jaehee was clueless too, else she would be worried about the public images of both Zen and Jumin. And Yoosung, of course, was oblivious; though he was not a stupid boy by any means, news of a relationship like this would blindside him and definitely not be something he ever expected.

Perhaps Zen is right. At a business perspective, it is necessary to maintain a level of professionalism in RFA. Though with Luciel and MC, both members of the organization, not in a long-term relationship, perhaps fraternization is no longer an issue… Zen clearly has no stipulations about that relationship, so why would he back out on his own?

Of course, their relationship is not traditional by any means. They do not go on dates. They do not eat dinner together or hold hands, and any attempt to say or even think the words _I love you_ results in painful twists of the heart and lungs, like the hands of reason reaching out and grabbing their throats, choking air and speech down and out, halting the words in their tracks.

There is no need for this to be traditional, Jumin thinks. What society believes is “right” is an abstract concept. There are no rules to how to express love and be in a relationship. It might be difficult for them now, but it doesn’t have to be that way always.

Jumin hates rationalizing about this. It makes his stomach turn, because these are all speculations. Relationships and human interactions are not static things, and they are not organized by science – he _hates_ that, because it isn’t predictable, because he doesn’t know how to behave without the guidelines.

What he has with Zen is a relationship, a very special one. Jumin has never experienced something like this before. He is learning, slowly. Zen is here and teaching him, indirectly and directly, to listen to his feelings instead of his head. That is beyond difficult, a mountain-like border for a man like Jumin Han. But Jumin overcomes it and learns something new every day. He wishes that he could tell Zen this, but the words get choked down again.

So if secrecy is what Zen wants, he can have it. Jumin only has one pressing question. He needs an answer if he is to learn.

“Why?” Jumin doesn’t look Zen in the eyes. He’s starting to feel guilty. 

“Why?” Zen echoes, furrowing his brow a little. 

“I respect your decision, but I want to know… why are you so adamant about keeping this a secret?”

Zen’s face twists. He’s angry. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

An answer flashes into Jumin’s head, the only rationalization he can think of. “Are you ashamed?”

Instantly, Zen’s face relaxes. Now he is shocked, Jumin can tell. He doesn’t know why, but he reads the expression on Zen’s face, thinks hard, analyzes it, and he _knows_ that something is wrong.

Zen looks away again. He sighs, silently. The flush in his cheeks is starting to fade away. “You’re usually really bad at reading people’s emotions.”

“Spending time with you has given me a crash-course in emotional intelligence,” Jumin admits.

“Oh? I guess that’s good.” Zen doesn’t smile when he says that, though. “I’m a little upset that you figured me out so fast. Am I that expressive?”

“You are.” A corner of Jumin’s lips turn up in a smirk. “And I thought you were a _good_ actor.”

Finally, Zen cracks a smile. He looks up, right at Jumin, with those pretty, red, expressive eyes. “Oh, very funny. Your jokes are getting better. Seven and MC… those boys are rubbing off on you. And on me too, I think.”

He’s changing the subject, an art Jumin appreciates, but now is not the time. “Zen. Tell me why you’re ashamed.”

The expression of Zen’s face shifts again. Suddenly he’s looking down, at his hands, frowning. He doesn’t speak. It’s unclear whether he doesn’t know what to say or if he’s holding back the truth. Either way, he looks pained and frustrated. Jumin hopes he doesn’t start crying.

“I don’t know,” Zen begins. “I guess… When I think of the rest of the RFA finding out about us, it makes me nervous. But at the same time, holding these feelings inside burns me up like a poison, eating me alive. I feel trapped inside of myself. I don’t know what to do.” 

The words come out like water flow. Zen’s voice is so sad. His body is tense, his eyes glimmer with sorrow. Jumin imagines what these cues mean, what Zen must be feeling. His heart must ache, like loneliness but not quite. 

But Jumin doesn’t know what to do. He says nothing.

Zen takes it personally. He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m opening up to you.”

Does he need an explanation? “We’ve been intimate,” Jumin explains. “There’s nothing to hide.”

Zen doesn’t say anything else. Jumin knows his words did not help, but he still has no clue how to proceed. He thinks hard about what Zen just said. He’s worried about his friends hating him? For what? For being with Jumin? Well, that doesn’t make logical sense, but clearly Zen knows that, and something else is holding him back. 

Asking for help feels a lot like food poisoning, but Jumin would be a fool not to follow his own advice: there’s nothing to hide. They’re intimate now, so being vulnerable with Zen should not turn Jumin’s stomach like it used to. Yet it does, because of this barrier.

“Zen…” Jumin takes a seat on the bed and tries to meet eyes with his partner. “You have to explain a little more. I need some help understanding how you feel.”

It’s difficult for Jumin to empathize with anyone, but thankfully Zen is descriptive, and opens up to Jumin, making it easier. Zen understands that vagueness will make things worse. As a master of expression and communication, he should have known that in the first place. Still, proceeding is difficult for him.

“How do I feel?” Zen repeats the question slowly, like he hasn’t been asked it in a while. “I feel wrong.” He hesitates, strength leaving his voice in each passing breath. “I wish I could change this part of me, the part that likes men. It makes me sick when I think about it. I feel dirty, the kind of filth you can’t wash off. I wish I didn’t. But I just… I feel…”

Jumin’s heart drops in his chest. It’s a sudden and horrible feeling, and it brings sanguine guilt. He wishes he knew this earlier. He feels like a fool for not catching on.

There are tears in Zen’s eyes now. “It is so difficult for me to come to terms with how I feel about you. I guess it’s because I’m weak. I do care about you, and I always want to be with you, and making love to you is like heaven to me, but the poison… the hate and shame… they always come back. I wish I could make it stop, but I can’t.”

Jumin wants to take some time to think about this. He wants to rationalize a solution and take it slowly, but too much time has passed. Zen is clearly hurting. Jumin feels his own heart’s obligation and desire to help.

So Jumin reaches out. He puts a hand over Zen’s, but doesn’t grasp it. “I can’t help you,” he says.

Zen takes a shaky breath. He doesn’t look Jumin in the eyes.

“I will be here to hold your hand, and I will continue loving you. I hope that will aid the process. But the hate you feel for yourself, you have to combat it on your own. I will be beside you… but the resolve must come from your own heart.”

Zen nods. He closes his eyes. Tears pool up in a line, visible on his eyelashes. “You’re right. Thank you.”

Jumin retracts his hand. He wonders if Zen wants some space. “Clearly I’m no expert, but perhaps the first step should be telling people you trust. I’ve heard that reaching out to people when you’re depressed tends to help.”

Zen opens his eyes again, but doesn’t look at Jumin. He still seems very sad. He shakes his head no; perhaps his voice it too weak for him to talk.

“No?” Jumin figures that his advice is bad and isn’t working, and feels guilty about it. He needs more cues before he can proceed.

Thankfully Zen opens his heart again. “I can’t tell people about this. I’m afraid the world will look at me differently. My fans, mostly. But even more important than that… Jaehee, V, _everyone_ in the RFA. If they knew… I know this is irrational, but I feel that they would hate me, and hate you too. They’d be disgusted. I don’t want that.”

Jumin’s voice goes stern. “Zen. We’re your friends.”

Zen sniffles. “Yeah.”

“We care about you. All of us do. Nothing will ever change that, I can promise. And I don’t make promises often.”

Without Jumin talking, the room is silent. Zen must be holding his breath to keep from sobbing. Any additional pressure might cause his glass heart to break.

There is a stillness of caution in the way Jumin proceeds. “We’re your friends, and we love you. Who you love will never, ever change that.”

Zen’s expression melts. He turns his face, and in the shift of light Jumin can see tears pooling at the rim of his eyes. Jumin must have shattered Zen’s heart, or at least the wall of iron around it; the protective armor he had built up out of absolute shame for what was inside. Jumin did intend to help break it down, and although he had no clue how to do it, what he said seems to have worked.

But instead of a smile, Zen starts to cry. Oh. Perhaps it didn’t work as well as Jumin had hoped…

Zen puts his head in his hand and shakes his head. “God, you’re so right…” He closes his eyes, forcing the tears out. “I’m such an idiot, for thinking like that.” He hesitates, trying to compose himself. “But I’ve never known any differently, you know?”

“I know.” Jumin remembers that consoling people sometimes means you have to touch them, so he puts his hand on Zen’s back, on his still-sticky, still-warm skin. “It’s not your fault.”

Zen opens his eyes and looks at Jumin; the whites of his eyes are badly red with tears burning at them; he looks… almost ugly, starting to cry like this, but, god, he’s still so beautiful as well, so fragile.

“I hope I get over this feeling soon,” Zen says softly. “I want to love you, without the guilt and shame. I really do. Do you believe that?”

Jumin’s heart beats faster. “I do.”

And then, Zen is smiling. “Good. I’m glad.”

Despite the small smile upturning his lips, Zen continues to cry. Jumin watches him with confusion. Why is he still crying? It doesn’t look like a fake smile, and context confirms that. Maybe he’s crying from happiness, though Jumin can’t pinpoint why that would be.

Nonetheless, he wants Zen to stop crying. And since Jumin is well aware that his consolation skills are horrendous, he tries a different tactic: making Zen smile.

He tries to fake seriousness at first. “Don’t give me those fake tears,” he snaps.

Zen buys it, looking up at him, furrowing his brow. His smile vanishes. “They’re not fake…”

“Really?” Jumin smirks. “Had me fooled. You’re too good.”

Zen smiles, this time fully, and for real. He paws the tears out of his eyes, but they keep coming. However, it is now clear that these tears are coming from happiness and comfort. It takes a moment for Jumin to realize that he himself caused that happiness; that’s new, and different, and something Jumin would typically not bother wasting energy on… but this is Zen. Zen needed the reassurance and happiness, so it was worth it. There is a feeling in Jumin’s heart which he cannot name, but it gets stronger when he watches Zen smile.

Zen’s eyes are practically glimmering. “Out of all the things we do together now, compared to the differences of the past… the most surprising difference is that you can make me smile.”

Jumin doesn’t know what to say to that. It makes him feel good, but he can’t top it. He stands from the bed, looks at himself in the mirror, and straightens his tie. “Get dressed, Zen. We have to be prompt.”

Zen is quiet for a few moments. When Jumin looks at him through the mirror, their reflections’ eyes meet. Zen hesitates before speaking, softly. “Thank you, Jumin.” He looks away.

It’s very sincere and humble of him to say that. Jumin appreciates it. He gives Zen a gentle nod and leaves it at that.

After a pause, Zen changes the subject on his own. “Next time…” he starts, then breaks into a smile. “I’ll take some allergy medicine, and I’ll come to your place. I feel like your bed is bigger. And nicer. And I’ll have a fun time making a mess of your perfect penthouse.”

Jumin almost laughs. “I’d love to have you as a guest. I’ll even treat you to dinner.” He smirks and says the part he knows Zen wants to hear, to humor him. “I have plenty of… _toys_ that we can try out. Just sitting at home, waiting for me to use them.”

Zen chuckles lightly. The light is back in his eyes again. “Oh, do you?” He pauses and remembers something. “Yeah, I’d love to, but I feel like that furball would watch us while we… you know.” He almost shuddered. “I couldn’t handle that.”

Jumin gives him a little shrug, as if saying, _your loss_. He fixes his hair in the mirror and catches himself smiling, genuinely.

Zen thinks about it a little more. “You’d make it worth it, though?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then.” Zen’s cheeks flush a cute shade of pink. “It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all enjoyed! this one might end up being one of the fics i'm most proud of. requests are open so message me @subwaywolfy on twitter or subwaywolf on tumblr!!!!!


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